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THE DREAMERS 
AND OTHER POEMS 



THE DREAMERS 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 

THEODOSIA GARRISON 




NEW YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 






-/l'^<^ 
^^^^<^ 



COPYRIGHT, 1917, 
BY GEOKGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMERICA 



\^ OCT 16 1917 



S)g;.A476578 



TO 

F. J. F. 



September, 1917 



For the privilege of reprinting the poems included in this 
volume the author thanks the Editors of Scribner's, Harper's 
Magazine, Harper's Bazar, McClure's, Collier's Weekly, 
The Delineator, The Designer, Ainslee's, Everybody's, The 
Smart Set, The Cosmopolitan, Lippincott's, Munsey's, The 
Rosary, The Pictorial Review, The Bookman, and the Newark 
Sunday Call. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Dreamers 13 

Three Songs in a Garden 15 

The Return 19 

Black Sheep 21 

MONSEIGNEDR PlAYS 23 

Unbelief 26 

The Silent One 27 

The Rose 29 

The Song of the Young Page 31 

The New Spring 33 

The Burden 35 

The Bride 36 

The Seer of Hearts 39 

The Unseen Miracle 40 

The April Boughs 41 

Transients 43 

The Mother '44 

When Pierrot Passes 45 

The Poet 47 

Magdalen 49 

A Salem Mother 51 

The Days 55 

The Call 56 

The Pakasite 58 

Youth 62 

The Empty House 64 

The Broken Lute 66 

Orchards 67 



X CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Twilight 69 

A Love Song 71 

Old Boats 72 

Beauty 74 

A Song 76 

Mothers of Men 77 

Lovelace Grown Old 79 

Shade 84 

The Vagabond 86 

Distance 88 

The Gypsying 89 

Good-bye, Pierette 92 

The Awakening 94 

The Wedding Gown 96 

The Disciples 98 

The Unknowing 100 

Heart of a Hundred Sorrows 101 

The Returning 103 

The Inlander 104 

Ad Pustem 106 

A Song of Heloise 108 

The Return 109 

The Poplars Ill 

The Little Joys 113 

Songs of Himself 

Himself 117 

The Fair 120 

The Dancing Days 123 

Sheila 126 

The Grief 128 

The Introduction ISO 

The Stay-at-Home 132 



THE DREAMERS 
AND OTHER POEMS 



THE DREAMERS 
AND OTHER POEMS 

THE DREAMERS 

The gypsies passed her little gate — 

She stopped her wheel to see, — 

A brown-faced pair who walked the road. 

Free as the wind is free; 

And suddenly her tidy room 

A prison seemed to be. 

Her shining plates against the walls. 

Her sunlit, sanded floor. 

The brass-bound wedding chest that held 

Her linen's snowy store, 
13 



14 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

The very wheel whose humming died,— 
Seemed only chains she bore. 

She watched the foot- free gypsies pass; 

She never knew or guessed 

The wistful dream that drew them close- 

The longing in each breast 

Some day to know a home like hers. 

Wherein their hearts might rest. 



TH& DR£AM£RS AND OTHER POEMS 15 



THREE SONGS IN A GARDEN 



White rose-leaves in my hands^ 

I toss you all away; 
The winds shall blow you through the 
world 

To seek my wedding day. 
Or East you go, or West you go 

And fall on land or sea. 
Find the one that I love best 

And bring him here to me. 
And if he finds me spinning 

'Tis short I'll break my thread; 
And if he finds me dancing 

I'll dance with him instead; 



16 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

If he finds me at the Mass — 

(Ah, let this not be. 
Lest I forget my sweetest saint 

The while he kneels by me!) 



II 



My lilies are like nuns in white 

That guard me well all day, 
But the red, red rose that near them grows 

Is wiser far than they. 
Qh, red rose, wise rose. 

Keep my secret well; 
I kiss you twice, I kiss you thrice 

To pray you not to tell. 
My lilies sleep beneath the moon, 

But wide awake are you. 
And you have heard a certain word 

And seen a dream come true. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 17 

Oh^ red rose, wise rose. 

Silence for my sake, 
Nor drop to-night a petal light 

Lest my white lilies wake. 

Ill 

Will the garden never forget 

That it whispers over and over, 
"Where is your lover, Nanette? 

Where is your lover — your lover?" 
Oh, roses I helped to grow. 

Oh, lily and mignonette. 
Must you always question me so, 

"Where is your lover, Nanette?" 
Since you looked on my joy one day. 

Is my grief then a lesser thing? 
Have you only this to say 

When I pray you for comforting? 



18 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Now that I walk alone 

Here where our hands were met. 

Must you whisper me every one, 
"Where is your lover, Nanette?" 

I have mourned with you year and year. 

When the Autumn has left you. bare, • 
And now that my heart is sere 

Does not one of your roses care? 
Oh, help me forget — forget. 

Nor question over and over, 
"Where is your lover, Nanette? 

Where is your lover — ^your lover?" 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 19 



THE RETURN 

I LOST Young Love so long ago 

I had forgot him quite, 
Until a little lass and lad 

Went by my door to-night. 

Ah, hand in hand, but not alone. 
They passed my open door. 

For with tliem walked tliat other one 
Who paused here Mays before. 

And I, who had forgotten long. 
Knew suddenly the grace 

Of one who in an empty land 
Beholds a kinsman's face. 



20 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Oh^ Young Love, gone these many years, 
'Twas you came back to-night. 

And laid your hand on my two eyes 
That they might see aright. 

And took my listless hand in yours 
(Your hands without a stain). 

And touched me on my tired heart 
That it might beat again. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 21 



BLACK SHEEP 

"Black Sheep, Black Sheep, 

Have you any wool?" 
"That I have, my Master, 

Three hags full." 

One is for the mother who prays for me at 
night — 

A gift of broken promises to count by candle- 
light. 

One is for the tried friend who raised me when 

I fell— 
A gift of weakling's tinsel oaths that strew the 

path to hell. 



22 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

And one is for the true love — the heaviest of all — 
That holds the pieces of a faith a careless hand 
let fall. 

Black Sheep, Black Sheep, 
Have you ought to say? 

A word to each, my Master, 
Ere I go my way. 

A word unto my mother to bid her think o' me 
Only as a little lad playing at her knee. 

A word unto my tried friend to bid him see again 
Two laughing lads in Springtime a-racing down 
the glen. 

A word unto my true love — a single word — to 

pray 
If one day I cross her path to turn her eyes away. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 23 



MONSEIGNEUR PLAYS 

MoNSEiGNEUR plays his new gavotte — 
Within her gilded chair the Queen 
Listens, her rustling maids between; 
A very tulip-garden stirred 
To hear the fluting of a bird; 
Faint sunlight through the casement falls 
On cupids painted on the walls 
At play with doves. Precisely set 
Awaits the slender legged spinet 
Expectant of its happy lot. 

The while the player stays to twist 
The cobweb ruffle from his wrist. 
A pause, and then — (Ah, whisper not) 
Monseigneur plays his new gavotte. 



24 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Monseigneur plays his new gavotte — 
Hark, 'tis the faintest dawn of Spring, 
So still the dew drops whispering 
Is loud upon the violets; 
Here in this garden of Pierrettes* 
Where Pierrot waits, ah, hasten Sweet, 
And hear; on dainty, tripping feet 
She comes — the little, glad coquette. 
"Ah thou, Pierrot?" "Ah thou, Pierrette?' 
A kiss, nay, hear — a bird wakes, then 
A silence — and they kiss again, 
"Ah, Mesdames, have you quite forgot — " 
(So laughs his music.) "Love's first kiss? 
Let this note lead you then, and this 
Back to that fragrant garden-spot." 
Monseigneur plays his new gavotte. 

Monseigneur plays his new gavotte — 
Ah, hear — in that last note they go 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 27 



THE SILENT ONE 

The moon to-night is like the sun 
Through blossomed branches seen; 

Come out with me, dear silent one. 
And trip it on the green. 

"Nay, Lad, go you within its light. 
Nor stay to urge me so — 

'Twas on another moonlit night 
My heart broke long ago." 

Oh loud and high the pipers play 

To speed the dancers on; 
Come out and be as glad as they. 

Oh, little Silent one. 



28 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

"Nay, Lad, where all your mates are met 

Go you the selfsame way. 
Another dance I would forget 

Wherein I too was gay." 

But here you sit long day by day 
With those whose joys are done; 

What mates these townfolk old and grey 
For you dear Silent one. 

"Nay, Lad, they're done with joys and fears. 

Rare comrades should we prove, 
For they are very old with years 

And I am old with love." 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 29 



THE ROSE 

I TOOK the love you gave. Ah, carelessly. 
Counting it only as a rose to wear 

A little moment on my heart no more. 
So many roses had I worn before, 
So lightly that I scarce believed them there. 

But, Lo ! this rose between the dusk and dawn 
Hath turned to very flame upon my breast, 
A flame that burns the day-long and the night, 
A flame of very anguish and delight 
That not for any moment yields me rest. 

And I am troubled with a strange, new fear. 
How would it be if even to your door 



30 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

I came to cry your pitying one day. 
And you should lightly laugh and lightly say, 
"That was a rose I gave you — nothing more." 



THG DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 31 



THE SONG OF THE YOUNG PAGE 

All that I know of love I see 
In eyes that never look at me; 
All that I know of love I guess 
But from another's happiness. 

A beggar at the window I, 
Who, famished, looks on revelry; 
A slave who lifts his torch to guide 
The happy bridegroom to his bride. 

My granddam told me once of one 
Whom all her village spat upon. 

Seeing the church from out its breast 
Had cast him cursed and unconfessed. 



32 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

An outcast he who dared not take 
The wafer that God's vicars break, 

But dull-eyed watched his neighbours pass 
With shining faces from the Mass. 

Oh thou, my brother, take my hand, 

More than one God hath blessed and banned 

And hidden from man's anguished glance 

The glory of his countenance. 

All that I know of love I see 
In eyes that never look at me; 

All that I know of love I guess 

But from another's happiness. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 33 



THE NEW SPRING 

The long grief left her old — and then 
Came love and made her young again 
As though some newer, gentler Spring 
Should start dead roses blossoming; 
Old roses that have lain full long 
In some forgotten book of song, 

Brought from their darkness to be one 
With lilting winds and rain and sun; 
And as they too might bring away 
From that dim volume where they lay 
Some lyric hint, some song's perfume 
To add its beauty to their bloom. 
So love awakes her heart that lies 



S4 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Shrouded in fragrant memories, 

And bids it bloom again and wake 
Sweeter for that old sorrow's sake. 



THB CREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 35 



THE BURDEN 

The burden that I bear would be no less 
Should I cry out against it; though I fill 

The weary day with sound of ray distress. 
It were my burden still. 

The burden that I bear may be no more 
For all I bear it silently and stay 

Sometimes to laugh and listen at a door 
Where joy keeps holiday. 

I ask no more save only this may be — 

On life's long road, where many comrades fare, 

One shall not guess, though he keep step with me. 
The burden that I bear. 



36 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE BRIDE 



Though other eyes were turned to him. 
He turned to look in mine; 

Though others filled the cup abrim. 
He might not taste the wine. 

I am so glad my eyes were first 
In which his own might sink; 

I am so glad he went athirst 
Until I bade him drink. 

II 

The Well-Beloved took my hand 
And led me to his fair abode, 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 37 

The home that Love and he had planned. 
(Strange that so well I knew the road.) 

And through the open door we went, 
And at our feet the hearth-light fell. 

And I — I laughed in all content. 
Seeing I knew the place so well. 

Ah, to no stranger Love displayed 
Its every nook, its every grace. 

This was the House of Dreams I made 
Long, long before I saw his face. 

Ill 

I jested over-much in days of old, 

I looked on sorrow once and did not care. 

Now Love hath crowned my head with very 
gold, 
I will be worthy of the joy I wear. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

There is not one a-hungered or a-cold 
Shall seek my door but that he too shall 
share 

Something of this vast happiness I hold; 
I will be worthy of the joy I wear. 

For I was hungered and Love spread the 
feast. 
Cold — and He touched my heart and 
warmed it there. 
Yea, crowned me Queen — I neediest of His 
least, 
I will be worthy of the joy I wear. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 39 



THE SEER OF HEARTS 

For mocking on men's faces 

He only sees instead 
The hidden, hundred traces 

Of tears their eyes have shed. 

Above their lips denying. 

Through all their boasting dares, 
He hears the anguished crying 

Of old unanswered prayers. 

And through the will's reliance 

He only sees aright 
A frightened child's defiance 

Left lonely in the night. 



40 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE UNSEEN MIRACLE 

The Angel of the night when night was gone 
High upon Heaven's ramparts, cried, "The Dawn !" 

And wheeling worlds grew radiant with the one 
And undiminished glory of the sun. 

And Angel, Seraph, Saint and Cherubim 
Raised to the morning their exultant hymn. 

All Heaven thrilled anew to look upon 
The great recurring miracle of dawn. 

And in the little worlds beneath them — men 
Rose, yawned and ate and turned to toil again. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 41 



THE APRIL BOUGHS 

It was not then her heart broke — 
That moment when she knew 

That all her faith held holiest 
Was utterly untrue. 

It was not then her heart broke — 
That night of prayer and tears 

When first she dared the thought of life 
Through all the empty years. 

But when beneath the April boughs 

She felt the blossoms stir, 
The careless mirth of yesterday 

Came near and smiled at her. 



42 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Old singing lingered in the wind. 
Old joy came close again, 

Oh, underneath the April boughs, 
I think her heart broke then. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 43 



TRANSIENTS 

They are ashamed who leave so soon 
The Inn of Grief — who thought to stay- 
Through many a faithful sun and moon, 
Yet tarry but a day. 

Shame-faced I watch them pay the score. 
Then straight with eager footsteps press 
Where waits beyond its rose-wreathed door 
The Inn of Happiness. 

I wish I did not know that here. 
Here too — where they have dreamed to stay 
So many and many a golden year 
They lodge but for a day. 



44 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE MOTHER 

So quietly I seem to sit apart; 

I think she does not know or guess at all. 
How dear this certain hour to my old heart. 

When in our quiet street the shadows fall. 

She leans and listens at the little gate. 

I sit so still, not any eye might see 
How watchfully before her there I wait 

For that one step that brings my world to me. 

She does not know that long before they meet 
(So eagerly must go a love athirst). 

My heart outstrips the flying of her feet. 

And meets and greets him first — and greets him 
first. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 45 



WHEN PIERROT PASSES 

High above his happy head 
Little leaves of Spring were spread; 
And adown the dewy lawn 
Soft as moss the young green grass 
Wooed his footsteps^ and the dawn 
Paused to watch him pass. 
Even so he seemed in truth 
Dancing between Love and Youth; 
And his song as gay a thing 
Still before him seemed to go 
Light as any bird awing, 
Blithe as jonquils in the Spring, 
And we laughed and said, "Pierrot, 
'Tis Pierrot." 



46 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

"Oh," he sang, "Her hands are far 
Sweeter than white roses are; 
When I hold them to my lips. 
Ere I dare a finer bliss. 
Petal-like her finger-tips 
Tremble 'neath my kiss. 
And the mocking of her eyes 
Lures me like blue butterflies 
Falling — ^lifting — of their grace. 
And her mouth — her mouth is wine." 
And we laughed as though her face 
Suddenly illumed the place. 
And we said, " 'Tis Columbine, 
Columbine." 



THS DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 47 



THE POET 

He made him a love o' dreams — 

He raised for his heart's delight — • 

(As the heart of June a crescent moon) 
A frail, fair spirit of light. 

He gave her the gift of joy — 
The gift of the dancing feet — 

He made her a thing of very Spring — 
Virginal — wild and svs^eet. 

But when he would draw her near 
To his eager heart's content. 

As a sunbeam slips from the finger-tips 
She slipped from his hold and went. 



48 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Virginal — wild — and sweet — 

So she eludes him still — 
The love that he made of dawn and shade 

Of dominant want and will. 

For ever the dream of man 
Is more than the dreamer is; 

Though he form it whole of his inmost soul, 
Yet never 'tis wholly his. 

Only is given to him 

The right to follow and yearn 
The loveliness he may not possess. 

The vision that may not turn. 

Never to hold or to bind — 

Only to know how fleet 
The dream that is and yet is not his, — 

Virginal — wild — and sweet. 



THK DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 49 



MAGDALEN 

My father took me by the hand 

And led me home again; 
(He brought me in from sorrow 

As you'd bring a child from rain). 
The child's place at the hearth-stone. 

The child's place at the board. 
And the picture at the bed's head 

Of wee ones wi' the Lord. 



It's just a child come home he sees 

To nestle at his arm; 
(He brought me in from sorrow 

As you'd bring a child from harm). 



50 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

And of the two of us who sit 
By hearth and candle-light, 

There's just one hears a woman's heart 
Break — breaking in the night. 



THB DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 51 



A SALEM MOTHER 



They whisper at my very gate. 

These clacking gossips every one, 

"We saw them in the wood of late. 
Her and the widow's son; 

The horses at the forge may wait. 
The wool may go unspun." 

I spread the food he loves the best, 
I light the lamp when day is done. 

Yet still he stays another's guest — 
Oh, my one son, my son. 

I would it burned in mine own breast 
The spell he may not shun. 



52 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

She hath bewitched him with her eyes. 

(No goodly maid hath eyes as bright.) 
Pale in the morn I watch him rise, 

As one who wanders far by night. 
The gossips whisper and surmise — 

I hide me from the light. 



II 



Her hair is yellow as the corn. 

Her eyes are bluer than the sky; 
Behind the casement yester-morn, 

I watched her passing by. 
My son not yet had broken bread. 

Yet from the table did he rise. 
She said no word nor turned her head. 

What then the spell that bade him stir. 
Nor heeding any word I said, 

Put by my hands and follow her. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 53 
III 

He was so strong and wise and good — 
Was there no other she might take. 
Nor other mothers' hearts to break? 

What though she bade the harvest fail. 
What though she willed the cattle die. 
So my son's soul was spared thereby. 

My cattle fill the pasture-land. 

The ripe fruit thickens on the tree. 
My son, my son is lost to me. 

IV 

They burned a witch in our town, 

On hangman's hill to-day; 
And black the ashes drifted down. 

Ashes black and grey. 



54 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Not white like those o' martyred folk 
Whose souls are clean as they. 

They burned a witch in our town. 

Upon a windy hill. 
For that she made the wells sink down 

And wrought a young man ill. 
The smoke rose black against the sky. 

And hangs before it still. 

They burned a witch in our town. 

And sure they did but right, 
And yet I would the rain could drown 

That blackened hill from sights 
And some great wind might drive that cloud 

*Twixt God and me this night. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 55 



THE DAYS 

I CALL my years back, I, grown old. 

Recall them day by day; 
And some are dressed in cloth o' gold 

And some in humble grey. 

And those in gold glance scornfully 

Or pass me unawares; 
But those in grey come close to me 

And take my hands in theirs. 



56 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE CALL 

I MUST be off where the green boughs beckon — 
Why should I linger to barter and reckon? 
The mart may pay me — the mart may cheat me, 
I have had enough of the huckster's din. 
The calm of the deep woods waits to greet me, 
(Heart of the high hills, take me in.) 

I must be off where the brooks are waking. 
Where birds are building and green leaves break- 
ing. 
Why should the hold of an old task bind me? 
I know of an eyrie I fain would win 
Where a wind of the West shall seek me and find 
me, 
(Heart of my high hills, take me in.) 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 57 

I must be off where the stars are nearer. 
Where feet go swifter and eyes see clearer, 
Little I heed what the toilers name me — 
I have heard the call that to miss were sin. 
The April voices that clamour and claim me, 
(Heart of my high hills, take me in.) 



58 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE PARASITE 

They brought to the little Princess, from her 

earliest hour of birth. 
The lovely things, the beautiful things, the soft 

things of earth. 

They covered her floor with crimson, they wrapped 

her in eiderdown; 
They hung the windows with cloth of gold, lest 

her eyes look down; 
(Lest the highway show an unlovely thing 
And her eyes look down.) 

They brought rare toys to her cradle, rich gems to 

her maidenhood; 
All that she saw was beautiful, all that she heard 

was good. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 59 

When tumult rose in the city they bade her min- 
strels sing; 

They drowned with the sound of music a people's 
clamouring ; 

(Lest she turn and hark to the highway. 

And hear an unlovely thing.) 

But there came a day of terror, when a cry too 

sharp and long 
Tore through the streets of the city, through the 

soft, sweet song. 

She bade her singers be silent — silent they stood 

in awe; 
She raised the gold from the window; she looked 

down and saw. 
(She leaned and looked on the highway, 
She looked down and saw.) 



60 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

She saw men driven like cattle, she heard the wom- 
an's cry, 

She saw the white-faced children toil, and the 
weaklings die. 

She saw the bound and the beaten beneath her 

like shifting sands. 
And — she dropped the cloth on her window with 

her own white hands, 
(She shut out her people's crying 
With her own white hands.) 

As a child may turn from a picture that he may 

not understand. 
She turned to fragrance and music, — to soft 

things and bland. 

If the Princess is blind to anguish, if the Princess 

is deaf to woe. 
If the streets of her city may run with blood, and 

she not know. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 6l 

Now theirs is the blame who have closed her in 

ease as in folded wings. 
Who have barred the doors and windows, what 

time her minstrel sings. 
Lest her eyes look down on the highway. 
And look on unlovely things. 



62 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



YOUTH 

What do they know of youth, who still are 

young ? 
They but the singers of a golden song 
Who may not guess its worth or wonder — 

flung 
Like largesse to the throng. 
We only, — young no longer, — old so long 
Before its harmonies, stand marvelling — 
Oh! we who listen — never they who sing. 

Not for itself is beauty, but for us 
Who gaze upon it with all reverent eyes; 
And youth which sheds its glory luminous. 
Gives ever in this wise: — 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 63 

Itself the joy it may not realise. 

Only we know, who linger overlong 

Youth that is made of beauty and of song. 



64 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE EMPTY HOUSE 

April will come to the quiet town 

That I left long ago, 

Scattering primroses up and down — 

Row upon happy row. 

(Oh, little green lane, will she come 

your way, 
To a certain path I know?) 

April will pause by cottage and gate 

In the wild, sweet evening rain, 

Where the garden borders run brown 

and straight. 
To coax them to bloom again. 

(Oh, little sad garden that once 

was gay. 

Must she call to you all in vain.'*) 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 65 

April will come to cottage and hill. 

Laughing her lovers awake. 

(Oh, little closed house, so cold and 

still, 
Will she find you for old joy's sake, 
And leave one primrose beside your 

door. 
Lest the heart of your garden break?) 



66 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE BROKEN LUTE 

Good-bye, my song — I, who found words for 

sorrow. 
Offer my joy to-day a useless lute. 
In the deep night I sang me of the morrow; 
The sun is on my face and I am mute. 

Good-bye_, my song, in you was all by yearning. 
The prayer for this poor heart I wore so long. 
Now love heaps roses where the wounds were 

burning ; 
What need have I for song? 

Long since I sang of all one loves and misses; 
How may I sing to-day who know no wrong ? 
My lips are all for laughter and for kisses. 
Good-bye, my song. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 67 



ORCHARDS 

Orchards in the Spring-time ! Oh, I think and 

think of them, — 
Filmy mists of pink and white above the fresh, 

young green, 
Lifting and drifting, — how my eyes could drink 

of them, 
I'm staring at a dirty wall beyond a big machine. 

Orchards in the Spring-time ! Deep in soft, cool 

shadows, — 
Moving all together when the west wind blows 
Fragrance upon fragrance over road and 

meadows — 
I'm smelling heat and oil and sweat, and thick, 

black clothes. 



68 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Orchards in the Spring-time ! The clean white 

and pink of them 
Lifting and drifting with all the winds that blow. 
Orchards in the Spring-time! Thank God I still 

can think of them ! 
You're not docked for thinkingj — if the foreman 

doesn't know. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 69 



TWILIGHT 

Below them in the twilight the quiet village lies, 
And warm within its holding, the old folks and 

the wise. 
But here within the open fields the paths of Eden 

show. 
And, hand in hand, across them the little lovers go. 

Below them in the village are peaceful folk and 

still. 
They gossip of old yesterdays, of merry times or 

ill. 
But here beyond the twilight stray two who only 

see 
The promise of to-morrow — the dawn that is to be. 



70 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Below them in the village the quiet hearth-flames 
glow. 

With friendly word and greeting the neighbours 
come and go. 

But here the silence folds them together, each 
to each. 

And lights within the mating eyes the dream be- 
yond their speech. 

Below them in the village stay honest toil and 

truth, — 
They rest there who adventured the road of love 

and youth. 
Smile out, old hearts, when once again two take 

the path you know. 
And, hand in hand, at twilight the little lovers go. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 71 



A LOVE SONG 

My love it should be silent, being deep — 
And being very peaceful should be still — 
Still as the utmost dejiths of ocean keep — 
Serenely silent as some mighty hill. 

Yet is my love so great it needs must fill 
With very joy the inmost heart of me. 
The joy of dancing branches on the hill. 
The joy of leaping waves upon the sea. 



72 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



OLD BOATS 

I SAW the old sea captain in his city daughter's 

house, 
Shaved till his chin was pink, and brushed till 

his hair was flat. 
In a broadcloth suit and varnished boots and a 

collar up to his ears. 
(I'd seen him last with a slicker on and a tied 

down oilskin hat.) 



And it happened that I went home last June, and 

saw in Mallory's yard 
The old red dory that sprung a leak a couple of 

years ago. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 73 

Dragged out of good salt water and braced to 

stand in the grass 
And be filled with dirt from stem to stern, where 

posies and such could grow. 

Painted to beat the band, with vines strung over 

the sides 
And red geraniums in the bow, — a boat that was 

built for water 
Made into a flower garden. I looked, but I didn't 

laugh, 
For I thought of the old sea captain living in 

town with his daughter. 



74 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



BEAUTY 

Sometimes, slow moving through unlovely 

days. 
The need to look on beauty falls on me 
As on the blind the anguished wish to see. 
As on the dumb the urge to rage or praise; 
Beauty of marble where the eyes may gaze 
Till soothed to peace by white serenity, 
Or canvas where one master hand sets free 
Great colours that like angels blend and blaze. 

O, there be many starved in this strange 

wise — 
For this diviner food their days deny. 
Knowing beyond their vision beauty stands 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 75 

With pitying eyes — with tender, outstretched 

hands. 
Eager to give to every passer-by 
The loveliness that feeds a soul's demands. 



76 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



A SONG 

I AM as weary as a child 

That weeps upon its mother's breast 
For joy of comforting. But I 

Have no such place to rest. 

I am as weary as a bird 

Blown by wild winds far out to sea 
When it regains its nest. But, Oh, 

There waits no nest for me. 

What think you may sustain the bird 
That finds no housing after flight.'' 

And what the little child console 
Who weeps alone at night? 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 77 



MOTHERS OF MEN 

Mothers of men — the words are good indeed in 
the saying, 
Pride in the very sound of them, strength in 
the sense of them, then 
Why is it their faces haunt me, wistful faces as 

praying 
Ever some dear thing vanished and ever a hope 
delaying. 

Mothers of Men? 

Mothers of Men, most patient, tenderly slow to 
discover 
The loss of the old allegiance that may not 
return again. 



78 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

You give a man to the world, you give a woman 

a lover — 
Wliere is your solace then when the time of giving 

is over. 

Mothers of Men? 

Mothers of Men, but surely, the title is worth the 
earning. 
You who are brave in feigning must I ever be- 
hold you then 
By the door of an empty heart with the lamp of 

faith still burning. 
Watching the ways of life for the sight of a child 
returning, 

Mothers of Men? 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 79 



LOVELACE GROWN OLD 



My life has been like a bee that roves 
Through a scented garden close. 

And 'tis I who have kept the honey of 

love, 
The hoarded sweetness and scent thereof. 
For all I forget the rose. 

Oh, exquisite gardens long forgot 

That have made my store complete. 

Though winter fall upon blossom and bee. 
Yet the kisses I, garnered remain with 
me 
Forever and ever sweet. 



80 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

II 

The Priest hath had his word and said his say- 
A word i' faith more honest than beguiling — 

But now he turns upon his gloomy way — 
Good soul, he leaves me smiling. 

I may not ponder much on future wrath; 

Of all those loves of mine, some six or seven, 
Surely ere this have climbed that thorny path 

That leads at last to Heaven. 

My bold, brown beauties, eh, my delicate 
And golden damsels with uncensuring eyes, 

Not long once did you make your Lovelace wait 
Outside of Paradise. 

Much am I minded of a certain night — 

A night of moon and drifting clouds that hid 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 81 

The convent wall from overmuch of light 
Whereby one watched forbid. 

Watched, till he heard within the trembling sound 
Of white, girl fingers on the rusting key 

That turned her heart as well, till each unbound 
Let in felicity. 

Ah well, I have small fear — her eyes were blue ; 

Blue eyes remember though it cost them tears. 
Who knows but that same hand shall lead me 
through 

Another Gate of Fears. 

In the same fashion, brave, yet most afraid. 
Bold for her love yet trembling for her sin — 

So, Saints were tricked before. My blue-eyed 
maid. 
Be there to let me in. 



82 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 
III 

Since I loved you for a day — Ah, a day, the fleet- 
est — 
Since I sighed and rode away when our love was 
sweetest. 
So shall you remember me, now that youth is 

over. 
Fairly, of your courtesy, as your fondest lover. 



Since I turned and said good-bye when my heart 

was truest. 
Since we parted, you and I, when our joy was 
newest. 
Love might never turn to doubt and from doubt 

to scorning. 
We but lived his sweetness out twixt a night 
and morning. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 83 

So shall you remember me, eager in pursuing, 
Faithful as a man must be in his time o' wooing. 
Greater loves but stay and pine so, now youth is 

over. 
Smiling shall you think of mine — mine, your 
fondest lover. 



84 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



SHADE 

The kindliest thing God ever made. 
His hand of very healing laid 
Upon a fevered world, is shade. 

His glorious company of trees 
Throw out their mantles, and on these 
The dust-stained wanderer finds ease. 

Green temples, closed against the beat 
Of noontime's blinding glare and heat, 
Open to any pilgrim's feet. 

The white road blisters in the sun; 
Now, half the weary journey done. 
Enter and rest. Oh weary one ! 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 85 

And feel the dew of dawn still wet 

Beneath thy feet, and so forget 

The burning highway's ache and fret. 

This is God's hospitality. 

And whoso rests beneath a tree 

Hath cause to thank Him gratefully. 



86 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE VAGABOND 

The little dream she had forgot 

Oh, long and long ago. 
Came back across the April fields 

And touched her garment so 
(As might a wind-blown primrose cling 

And one scarce guess or know.) 

A little beggared outcast dream 

Forgot of Love and men. 
And all because a fiddler played 

An old song in the glen. 
And two Young Lovers hand in hand. 

Sent back its tune again. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 87 

The little dream she had forgot 
Crept near and clung and stayed — 

A roving, ragged vagabond 
Half daring, half afraid. 

And all because young love went by 
And one old fiddler played. 



88 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



DISTANCE 

A HUNDRED miles between us 
Could never part us more 

Than that one step you took from me 
What time my need was sore. 

A hundred years between us 

Might hold us less apart 
Than that one dragging moment 

Wherein I knew your heart. 

Now what farewell is needed 

To all I held most dear. 
So far and far you are from me 

I doubt if you could hear. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 89 



THE GYPSYING 

I WISH we might go gypsying one day the while 
we're young — 
On a bhie October morning 
Beneath a cloudless sky. 
When all the world's a vibrant harp 
The winds o' God have strung. 

And gay as tossing torches the maples light us 
by; 
The rising sun before us — a golden bubble 

swung — 
I wish we might go gypsying one day the while 
we're young. 

I wish we might go gypsying one day before we're 
old— 
To step it with the wild west wind 



90 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

And sing the while we go. 
Through far forgotten orchards 
Hung with jewels red and gold; 

Through cool and fragrant forests where never 
sun may show, 
To stand upon a high hill and watch the mist 

unfold — 
I wish we might go gypsying one day before 
we're old. 

I wish we might go gypsying, dear lad, the while 
we care — 
Tlie while we've heart for hazarding. 
The while we've will to sing. 
The while we've wit to hear the call 
And youth and mirth to spare. 

Before a day may find us too sad for gypsy- 
ing* 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS Ql 

Before a day may find us too dull to dream and 

dare — 
I wish we might go gypsying, dear lad, the while 

we care. 



92 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



GOOD-BYE, PIERRETTE 

Good-bye, Pierrette. The new moon waits 
Like some shy maiden at the gates 

Of rose and pearl, to watch us stand 
This little moment, hand in hand — 
Nor one red rose its watch abates. 

The low wind through your garden prates 
Of one this twilight desolates. 

Ah, was it this your roses planned? 
Good-bye, Pierrette. 

Oh, merriest of little mates. 
No sadder lover hesitates 

Beneath this moon in any land; 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 93 

Nor any roses, watchful, bland. 
Look on a sadder jest of Fate's. 
Good-bye, Pierrette. 



94 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE AWAKENING 

When the white dawn comes 

I shall kneel to welcome it; 
The dread that darkened on my eyes 

Shall vanish and be gone. 
I shall look upon it 

As the parched on fountains. 
Yet it was the blinding night 

That taught the joy of dawn. 



When the first bird sings. 

Oh, I shall hear rejoicing. 

And all my life shall thrill to it 
And all my heart draw near. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS Q5 

I shall lean to listen 

Lest a note elude me. 
Yet it was the fearsome night 

That taught me how to hear. 

Wlien the sun comes up 

I shall lift my arms to it; 
The fear of fear shall fall from me 

As shackles from a slave. 
I shall run to hail it. 

Free and unbewildered. 
Yet U was the silent night 

That taught me to be brave. 



96 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE WEDDING GOWN 

She put her wedding-gown away 
As tenderly as one might close. 

With kissing lips and finger-tips. 
The petals of a rose 

Still held for the Beloved's sake — 
The loveliest that blows. 

She put her wedding-gown away — 

The quiet place was all astir 
With vague perfume that filled the room. 

Cedar and lavender. 
Yet sweeter still about it clung 

The fragrant thoughts of her. 
She put her wedding-gown away — 

Yet lingered where its whiteness gleamed 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 97 

As one above a sleeping Love, 

Oh, thus it was she seemed. 
Reluctant still to turn and go 

And leave him as he dreamed. 



98 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE DISCIPLES 

A GREAT king made a feast for Love, 
And golden was the board and gold 

The hundred, wondrous gauds thereof; 

Soft lights like roses fell above 
Rare dishes exquisite and fine; 
In jeweled goblets shone the wine — 

A great king made a feast for Love. 

Yet Love as gladly and full-fed hath fared 
Upon a broken crust that trvo have shared; 

And from scant wine as glorious dreams drawn 
up 

Seeing two lovers kissed above the cup. 

A great king made for Love's delight 
A temple wonderful wherein 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 99 

Served jeweled priest and acolyte; 

There fell no darkness day or night 
Since there his highest altar shone 
With flaming gems as some white sun^ 

A temple made for Love's delight. 

Yet Love hath found a temple as complete 
In some hare attic where irvo lovers meet; 
And made his altar by one candle's flame 
Seeing two lovers burned it in his name. 



100 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE UNKNOWING 

They do not know the awful tears we shed. 
The tender treasures that we keep and kiss; 

They could not be so still — our quiet dead 
In knowing this. 

They do not know what time we turn to fill 
Love's empty chalice with a cheaper bliss; 

They could not be so still — so very still 
In knowing this. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 101 



HEART OF A HUNDRED SORROWS 

Oh, Heart of a Hundred Sorrows, 
Whose pity is great therefore, 

The gift that Ihy children bring thee 
Is ever a sorrow more. 

Sure of thy dear compassion. 
Concerned for our own relief. 

Ever and ever we seek thee, 

And each with his gift of grief. 

Oh, not to reprove my brothers. 
Yet I, who am less than less. 

Would bring thee my joy of being 
The rose of my happiness. 



102 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

The spirit that makes my singing 
The gladness without alloy, 

Oh, Heart of a Hundred Sorrows, 
I bring thee a little joy. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 103 



THE RETURNING 

I SAID I will go back again where we 

Were glad together. But my dear, my dear. 

Where are the roses we were wont to see 
The songs we used to hear? 

I said the hearth-flame that once burned for us 
I will renew with all the cheer of old. 

Yet here within the circle luminous 
Our very hearts are cold. 

That was a barren garden that we found. 
This was an empty house we came to meet. 

We, who for all our longing, hear no sound 
Of Love's returning feet. 



104 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE INLANDER 

I NEVER climb a high hill 

Or gaze across the lea, 

But, Oh, beyond the two of them. 
Beyond the height and blue of them, 

I'm looking for the sea. 

A blue sea — a crooning sea — 
A grey sea lashed with foam — 
But, Oh, to take the drift of it. 
To know the surge and lift of it. 
And 'tis I am longing for it as the homeless 
long for home. 

I never dream at night-time 
Or close my eyes by day. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 105 

But there I have the might of it, 
The wind-whipped, sun-drenched sight of it, 
That calls my soul away. 

Oh, deep dreams and happy dreams. 
Its dreaming still I'd be, 

For still the land I'm waking in, 
'Tis that my heart is breaking in. 
And 'tis far where I'd be sleeping with the 
blue waves over me. 



106 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



AD FINEM 

I LIKE to think this friendship that we hold 

As youth's high gift in our two hands to-day 
Still shall we find as bright, untarnished gold 

What time the fleeting years have left us 
grey. 

I like to think we two shall watch the May 
Dance down her happy hills and Autumn fold 
The world in flame and beauty, we grown old 

Staunch comrades on an undivided way. 

I like to think of Winter nights made bright 

By book and hearth-flame when we two shall 
smile 
At memories of to-day — we two content 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 107 

To count our vanished dawns by candle-light 
Seeing we hold in our old hands the while 
The gift of gold youth left us as she went. 



108 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



A SONG OF HELOISE 

God send thee peace, Oh, great unhappy heart — 
A world away, I pray that thou mayst rest 
Softly as on the Well-Beloved's breast. 

Where ever in her wistful dreams thou art. 

At dawn my prayer is all for thee, at noon 
My very heart and, Oh, at night my tears 
For all we walk alone the empty years 

Nor meet neath any sun — neath any moon. 

Yet must my love go with thee — all apart 
From this the life I lend to lesser things; 
God send to thee this night beneath its wings, 

A little peace. Oh, great unhappy heart. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 109 



THE RETURN 

I COME to you grown weary of much laughter. 

From jangling mirth that once seemed over- 
sweet. 
From all the mocking ghosts that follow after 

A man's returning feet; 
Give me no word of welcome or of greeting 

Only in silence let me enter in. 
Only in silence when our eyes are meeting. 

Absolve me of my sin. 

I come to you grown weary of much living. 
Open your door and lift me of your grace, 

I ask for no compassion, no forgiving. 
Only your face, your face; 



110 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Only in that white peace that is your dwelling 
To come again, before your feet to sink. 

And of your quiet as of wine compelling 
Drink as the thirsting drink. 

Be kind to me as sleep is kind that closes 

With tender hands men's fever-wearied eyes. 
Your arms are as a garden of white roses 

Where old remembrance lies, 
I, who am bruised with words and pierced with 
chiding. 

Give me your silence as a Saint might give 
Her white cloak for some hunted creature's hiding. 

That he might rest and live. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 111 



THE POPLARS 

My poplars are like ladies trim, 
Each conscious of her own estate; 
In costume somewhat over prim, 
In manner cordially sedate. 
Like two old neighbours met to chat 
Beside my garden gate. 

My stately old aristocrats — 
I fancy still their talk must be 
Of rose-conserves and Persian cats. 
And lavender and Indian tea; — 
I wonder sometimes as I pass 
If they approve of me. 



112 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

I give them greeting night and morn, 
I like to think they answer, too. 
With that benign assurance born 
When youth gives age the reverence due, 
And bend their wise heads as I go 
As courteous ladies do. 

Long may you stand before my door, 
Oh, kindly neighbours garbed in green. 
And bend with rustling welcome o'er 
The many friends who pass between; 
And where the little children play 
Look down with gracious mien. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 113 



THE LITTLE JOYS 

My little joys went by me 

As little children run 
Across the fields at sunset 

When playing time is done. 

And now alone at twilight 

What is there may content 
The heart that loved their laughter 

And frolic merriment? 

Ah well, who knows but still may dawn 

Another fairer day 
Wherein my little joys may come 

A-dancing out to play. 



SONGS OF HIMSELF 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 117 



HIMSELF 

The houseful that we were then, you could count 

us by the dozens, 
The wonder was that sometimes the old walls 

wouldn't burst: 
Herself (the Lord be good to her !), the aunts and 

rafts of cousins, 
The young folks and the children, — but Himself 

came first. 

Master of the House he was, and well for them 

that knew it: 
His cheeks like winter apples and his head like 

snow; 
Eyes as blue as water when the sun of March 

shines through it. 
And steppin' like a soldier with his stick held so. 



118 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Faith, but he could tell a tale would serve a man 

for wages. 
Sing a song would put the joy of dancin' in two 

sticks ; 
But Saints between themselves and harm that saw 

him in his rages, 
Blazin' and oratin' over chess and politics. 

Master of the House he was, and that beyond all 

sayin'j 
Eh, the times I've heard him exhortin' from his 

chair 

The like of any Bishop, yet snappin* off his prayin' 

To put the curse on Phelan's dog for horvlin' in 
the prayer. 

The times I've seen him walkin' out like Solomon 

in glory, 
Salutin' with great elegance the gentry he might 

meet; 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 119 

An eye for every pretty girl, an ear for every 

story. 
And takin' as his just deserts the middle of the 

street. 

Master of the House, with much to love and he 

forgiven, — 
Yet, thinkin' of Himself to-day — Himself — / see 

him go 
With that old light step of his, across the Courts 

of Heaven, 
His hat a little sidetvai/s and his stick held so. 



120 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE FAIR 

The pick o' seven counties, so they're tellin' me, 

was there. 
Horses racin' on the track, and fiddles on the green, 
Flyin' flags and blowin' horns and all that makes a 

fair, 
I'm hearin' that the like of it was something never 

seen. 

So it is they're tellin' me. 
Girl dear, it may be true — 
I only know the bonnet strings 
Beneath your chin were blue. 

I'm hearin' that the cattle came that thick they 
stood in rows. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 121 

And Doolan's Timmy caught the pig and Terry 
climbed the pole. 

They're tellin' me they showed the cream of every- 
thing that grows, 

And never man had eyes enough for takin' in the 
whole. 

So it is they're tellin' me. 
Girl dear, it may be so, 
I only know your little gown 
Was whiter than the snow. 

They're tellin' me the gentry came from twenty 

miles about. 
And him that came from Ballinsloe sang limpin' 

Jamesey down. 
And 'twas Himself, no less, stood by to give the 

prizes out. 
They're tellin' me you'd hear the noise from here 

to Dublin town. 



122 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

So it is they're tellin' me, 
Girl dear, the same may be, 
I only know that comin' home 
You gave your word to me. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 123 



HIS DANCING DAYS 

Never did I find me mate for charmin' an' de- 

lightin'. 
Never one that had me bate for courtin' an' for 

fightin' ; — 
(A white moon at the crossroads then, and Denny 

with the fiddle; 
The parish round admirin', when I danced down 

the middle.) 
Up the earth and down again, me like you'd not 

discover ; 
Arrah! for the times before me dancin' days were 

over! 

Never was a moon so low it didn't find me court- 



124 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 

Never blade I couldn't show a wilder way of 

sportin'. 
(Is it at the fair I'd be, the gentry 'd troop to talk 

with me; 
Leapin' with delight was she, — the girl I'd choose 

to walk with me.) 
*Twas I could win the pick of them from any lad 

or lover; 
Arrah ! for the times before me dancin' days were 



What's come to all the lads to-day, — these mourn- 
ful ways they're keepin', 

Grudgin' any hour to play and wastin' nights in 
sleepin'. 

(Readin' be the chimney-place, — that dacent in 
their habits. 

You'd sooner get a fight or song be callin' upon 
rabbits.) 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 125 

Faith, I'd change the lot for one rejoicin', ran tin' 

rover. 
The like of me, myself, before me dancin' days 

were over. 



126 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



SHEILA 

Katie had the grand eyes and Delia had a way 

with her. 
And Mary had the Saints' face and Maggie's waist 

was neat, 
But Sheila had the merry heart that travelled all 

the day with her. 
That put the laughing on her lips and dancing in 

her feet. 

I've met with martyrs in my time, and Faith ! they 
make the best of it. 

But 'tis the uncomplaining ones that wear a sor- 
row long. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 127 

'Twas Sheila had the better way and that's to make 

a jest of it. 
To call her trouble out to dance and step it with a 

song. 

Eh, but Sheila had the laugh the like of drink to 
weary ones, 

(I've never heard the beat of it for all I've wan- 
dered wide.) 

And out of all the girls I knew the tender ones — 

the dreary ones, — 
'Twas only Sheila of the laugh that broke her 

heart and died. 



128 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE GRIEF 

The heart of me's an empty thing, that never stirs 

at all 
For Moon-shine or Spring-time, or a far bird's 

call. 
I only know 'tis living by a grief that shakes it 

so, — 
Like an East wind in Autumn, when the old nests 

blow. 

Grey Eyes and Black Hair, 'tis never you I 

blame. 
'Tis long years and easy years since last I spoke 
your name. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 129 

And I'm long past the knife-thrust I got at wake 

or fair. 
Or looking past the lighted door and fancying you 

there. 

Grey Eyes and Black Hair — the grief is never 

this; 
I've long forgot the soft arms — tlie first, wild kiss. 
But, Oh, girl that tore my youth, — 'tis this I have 

to bear, — 
If you were kneeling at my feet I'd neither stay 

nor care. 



130 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE INTRODUCTION 

I'm askin' you'll be easy for a bit. Sir, 

The lad's had little but a thrush's schoolin', 
The blue skies and the fields, the little whipster, 
'Tis time enough for something more — (But 
whisper) 
He'll go the better for an easy rulin'. 

Herself was always for the bit of readin' 

But Denny here, he's great for growin' 
things. 

There's not a primrose that he'd not be heedin' 

Herself is right 'tis graver things he's needin' 
The thrush is tamer when you clip his wings. 

I'd never have you spare him with the learnin'. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 131 

(And, Faith, 'tis little that the lad has had), 
But if above his task you'll see him turnin' 
To watch the fields — 'tis just the thrush's yearn- 
in'— 

I'm askin' you'll be easy with the lad. 



132 THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 



THE STAY-AT-HOME 

Comin' or goin' still they spread the news. 

About America how grand it is. 

The wonders that are waitin' you to choose 

And gold that common that like sand it is. 

"And here you stick/' says they. "Like some old 

tree 
Stuck in the bog belaboured by all seasons. 
What's ailin' ye?" says they. Well, leave them 
be, 
I have me reasons. 

There's Cormac's Hugh come back with all his 

talk, 
Spreadin' and apendin' like a king he is. 



THE DREAMERS AND OTHER POEMS 133 

The people flockin' down the way he'll walk, 
Till in the middle of a ring he is. 
But where's that one whose face was like a rose 
The day he went, betwixt her tears and teasin's? 
Married these five years — gone where no man 
knows, 
Faith, I've me reasons. 

"A likely lad," they say. "What's ailin' you. 
The gold and riches over there it is." 
Sure, I'm not doubtin' what they say is true 
They have me leave to hurry where it is. 
'Tis I will hold the treasure that endures. 
The while I'm listenin' to their talks and treasons. 
Oh, Sheila girl, those two blue eyes of yours, 
Faith, I've me reasons. 



^1 




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HECKMAN 

BINDERY INC 

a, DEC 88 

N. MANCHESTER 








